The Philippine Mafia
"The Family aims to provide Filipino players with a banner that they can unite under, While allowing non-Filipino players a glimpse into the unique culture of Philippine organized crime syndicates, and to create a group that Strives to Role-play to the extent of their capabilities, for the benefit and enjoyment of the entire community." '-Leon Hardie' The Philippine Mafia is a Filipino mafia organization ((also known as the first major Pinoy gang in Horizon Roleplay)). Story Making Your Mark The Filipino is Worth Dying For. Ninoy Aquino, one of my country's best leaders, spoke these words, days before his assassination. I don't know what the Philippines was like back then, But if he saw it now, I think he would've said something a lot different. Today our officers uphold the laws of the syndicates and corrupt officials that Protect them in exchange for some easy money. Our politicians argue and blabber away while the people they are supposed to represent go hungry and beg in The streets. Fathers rape daughters, Mothers abuse sons, and Disorder is the order of the day. These people are meant to protect us, but all they do is stand Around and look the other way when someone powerful tells them to. Justice and civility is a privilege here, enjoyed only by the rich and influential, And anyone who tries to change this is silenced in a heartbeat and forgotten, made just another statistic in the mortality rate. So over here where im From, in the streets, in our little barrios and our puroks, when no one cares to dish out justice, we make our own. And more often than not it ends up bloody. And no place in the Philippines is "Street Justice" more common than in the town of Ampatuan in Maguindanao, along the southwestern region of Mindanao. Here, Everyone has a reason to be angry at you, be it your race, your religion, the way you dress, even the food you eat can piss off the people around you, and in A town where death by gunshot is deemed natural causes, you don't want that kind of attention. It was here, at the most violent place in the country, where I was raised at the local orphanage. The helpers here tell me my mother left me a few days after I was born, and never looked back, never visited. They say She was raped by a group of American soldiers who we're in town for "peacekeeping" duties. I guess I was just another bad memory to her, probably why she Dumped me here in the first place. Whatever. I don't care who or where my parents are anymore, that’s just another episode of drama I don't want to deal with. I had enough on my hands trying to stay alive as a problem child in a town that would rather see me gone. I was resilient though. Years passed and I finally Became old enough to leave the orphanage. All the helpers wished me the best of luck in life, and they all watched me leave with tears in their eyes, Proud of what a good boy they raised me to be. What a load of fermented shit. By the time I was 18 I'd been insulted, beaten and robbed more times than I’d care to remember. But I survived all that. I proved I was strong, I proved I was smart, I proved that I had what it take to keep on living. The only thing I needed now was a reason to. No family, no friends, nothing But a load of shit I’ve had to take from a bunch of kids who didn't know any better. I knew in my heart that I didn't put up with all this to realize that there was Nothing waiting for me in store that this was all that fate had set out for me. I told fate to go fuck itself that day. I decide I'd make my own. I'll make a name For myself, a name that no one will have a reason to forget. Back in the orphanage, they called me Leon, the Filipino word for lion. Maybe it was because of the way I stood up to people that tried to mess with me, even if it meant I was going to get my ass kicked. Or maybe cause I never cut my hair and had a loud voice. I'll never Know. But I like it. I like how a lion's roar is rarely ignored in the savannah. Just like a lion, I wanted to be heard, I wanted to be respected. My name is Leon, and I refuse to be forgotten. The Exodus I had a purpose now; I just needed a place to see it done. I sure wasn't going to make a name for myself in Ampatuan, there was no place for a man like me in this town. I had to get out of here, go far away. I packed what little belongings I had and got on the bus to Davao, the biggest city in Mindanao. I arrive a few hours later, Tired from the trip. I needed a place to stay for the night. Luckily, there was a small motel just across the street from the bus terminal I got off of. I walk up To the establishment, eager to lie down on a nice bed. I go through the door and walk up to the motel's counter, and introduce myself to the owner, a man named Darik Hardie, a Chinito (Half-Chinese, Half Filipino) in his early twenties. After a little small talk, he gives me the key to my room and leaves me to my business. I look for my room, find it, and enter my humble quarters. Laying my backpack on the floor, I dive into the bed, eager for some shut eye. I drift into sleep in minutes. I awake to the sound of splintering wood and muffled shouts. Suddenly alert, I sprang out of bed and sneaked out of my room and went downstairs, to the direction of the noise. I freeze halfway down the staircase as I hear the sound of metal hitting a surface, and the pained groan of a man as he falls to the floor. Hurried footsteps follow, ending With the sounds of a door opening and closing, and the screech of tires on concrete as a vehicle drives away. I muster up some courage and enter the lobby. Debris and splinters lay across the floor, the receptioni***s counter sporting several dents, delivered by a hammer of sorts, judging by the impressions left behind. Most Of the windows were shattered, the wooden pains that remained being the only signs that they were ever there. And in the middle of all this was Darik, lying on the floor, Blood trickling from his temple, struggling to get up. Without speaking a word, I help him to his feet, and sit him down on one of the few chairs that didn't get shattered In the melee. I stood in front of him, hands in my pocket, feeling a mixture of embarrassment for seeing him in this state, and curiosity as to what triggered this chaos. After a few minutes, he speaks in a weary and tired voice. He tells me of how a local gang comes by every month, demanding a cut from what little profit he makes from his Rundown motel. He has reported to the local Police Chief several times already, to no avail. After some investigating of his own, he found out that the leader of the gang Extorting him just so happened to be a nephew of the Chief himself, which would explain why he gets away with the felonies he has been committing over the past few years. After telling his tale, Darik sighs heavily. He says there is nothing he can do, it’s the way this country has worked, and there was nothing a small timer like him could Do about it. He slowly gets up, the pain still clear in his features, and slowly limps to his room. I return to my own quarters, silently raging inside. This was a country That fought its own people, a nation too busy bickering with itself while foreigners and criminals and politicians reap the golden fruits we are too blind to notice. I was Sick, sick of all of it, so disgusted that I felt bile crawl up my throat. It was the same game all throughout the country, only with different players. There was no place To start over fresh in this country, I had to leave, find somewhere far, far away to escape all this madness. I was tired but couldn't sleep. I stormed out of my room, Out of the ruined lobby and into the streets for some air. I walk silently down the roads, following the mixed smells of smog and sea salt, to the freight harbors of Davao, along the district of Bago Aplaya. I walk amongst the Thousands of stacked freight containers and warehouses scattered around me, drawing closer and closer to the wharfs. I find a broken down bench near the street and sit down, Legs burning slightly from my long walk. I take in the sights around me, the cargo workers hurrying to and fro, checking that every shipment is in order, the massive ships Waiting to offload or deliver their haul, the multi-colored containers dotted all over the wharf, storing every item imaginable to man, from fish to handbags to rice to medicine. I was concentrating on every small detail, trying my best to forget for a moment that I needed to leave this God forsaken country. That’s when I noticed the logo on one of the Freight containers near to me. It said: "Los Santos Exports, Your #1 Dealer in American Surplus". A flash of thoughts raced through my mind. I ran back to the motel in a hurry, A plan forming in my mind. I arrive in a few minutes, panting heavily from my rushed trip. I run into Darik's room, startling him from his sleep. I excitedly tell him of my plan. His face is blank at first, but as I finish you could see a look in his eye. The same look I had when I left that orphanage. The look of a man who had found his purpose. Over the following Days Darik quickly sold the deed to his quaint motel, and pawned all his remaining belongings. He didn't exactly get a fair deal in both endeavors, but he got enough to get us both Fake ID's, and a few dollars to help us get started when we get to America. Within less than a week, we had our bags packed, and were ready to embark on our journey. Under the cover of darkness,Darik and I found a way to smuggle ourselves in the cargo bays of one of the freight carriers bound for Los Santos. We hid ourselves in one of the empty containers on board,And prepared for the trip. As the ship lifted anchor and slowly drifted away from my Home Country, I tried to remember the few times I was happy there. I could only recallBut a few spare moments. So I left the Philippines that night with no regrets, accompanied by my new friend Darik, towards the land of opportunity, where we hoped, we could Finally live our purpose. Before sleep took over me, I ruffled through my bag and pulled out my fake ID, forged only a couple of days ago. I stared at the face on the card, And the bold letters that spelt out my name. Leon Hardie. I took Darik's surname, since I had none of my own. It sounded good enough, and would serve me well. I sighed with satisfaction, and let my dreams take me. The Land of Opportunity Darik and I arrived at the harbor over at Ocean Docks, and we sneaked off the boat and exit the harbor unnoticed. We walked to the nearest payphone and asked the operator To give us the number for a taxi company. When the taxi arrived, we asked it to show us around town. As we toured around Los Santos, our new home. We had big cities back In our country, but nothing that could compare to this. I felt satisfied; I knew that here was a place where a man could make himself worth remembering. This would be The birthplace of my legacy. We manage to rent a cheap apartment near Las Colinas, near the bank, and we settle down immediately. We both get part-time jobs at a Convenience store nearby, and begin our new lives, free from the nightmare we lived in the Philippines. Or so it was, until a few weeks later. It was the end of my shift, and I was on my way home. As I was cycling down an alleyway I regularly used as a shortcut home, I saw a dark figure emerge from the shadows. The figure increased in speed until it crashed into me, knocking me off my bike and into a wall, winding me. As I attempt to get up, I instantly get knocked down as the Figure smashed my head against a wall. Dizzy and weak, I surrendered, knowing what came next. The dark figure laughed quietly as he rifled through my uniform and my backpack, Taking my wallet, my phone, and everything else I had of value. When he was sure he had taken everything worth stealing, he stepped on my face for good measure and ran off Into the night. I lost consciousness moments later. I awoke in my room, surrounded by 2 people I couldn't identify, as my vision was too blurry. As they came into focus, I saw Darik and a man in an officer's uniform. As I struggled To regain my senses, the officer calmly asks me what happened. In a slow monotone, I tell him of all that happened before I lost my consciousness. The policeman nods silently While Darik looks on in concern. When I was finished, the policeman finished scribbling in his notepad. He then pockets his pen, and tells Darik that they will conduct a full Investigation into the incident as soon as possible. Satisfied, Darik bids the officer goodbye and returns to sleep, and I soon follow suit. Days passed and nothing changed, Except for the fact that I was more alert, and that we noticed that the policemen had done nothing so far about my incident. Whenever we would call, the 911 operator would simply Tell us that they would follow up on the investigation, but still, nothing happened. Weeks passed until we simply gave up the hope that we would ever catch that dark figure. They wouldn't bother dealing with petty crimes, it would not benefit them. Besides, there are more important citizens to protect, the sons of the rich and influential. This is When I realized that Los Santos was no different from Ampatuan, from Davao, and from every other place I’ve been it. It was the same game, only with different players. I surrendered to my anger that night, and realized that if I do not want to be remembered as the man who submitted to fate. I will fight back, I will play this game. The Lion's Pride I spoke to Darik that night, I told him of the anger I felt, and of my plans to fight back. Darik supported me without question. He had always been loyal, And is like a brother to me. With him as my right hand man, we searched the town, sent whispers through the streets, speaking of a hidden society, a family that Sought to unite the men and women who escaped an Archipelago of chaos and corruption only to throw themselves into the same hell, only a thousand miles away from Home. Many answered our call, for there are many Filipinos in Los Santos, some unidentifiable due to their American or Chinese or Japanese blood, but all shared The same story and goals. They wanted to fight back, to make a name for themselves in this City. They did not want to be forgotten. I will assure that we will be remembered. We will let Los Santos know that the Filipinos are not to be trifled with, That the Filipinos are worth dying for. Mabuhay! ' Philippine Mafia HQ.jpg|The Philippine Mafia HQ ' Category:Gangs